


Reach and Flexibility

by Amariahellcat



Series: Kissing Turians [1]
Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: AU, Biotic Shepard, Biting, F/M, Feelings, Fluff and Smut, Garrus is Garrus, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Interspecies Relationship(s), Knotting, Mass Effect 2, No Shepard without Vakarian, Paragon Commander Shepard, Pillow Talk, Smut, Stress Relief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-20 07:08:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11915736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amariahellcat/pseuds/Amariahellcat
Summary: Arisa returns from the Collector Ship pissed off and frustrated, wound up and needing to let off steam. She’d promised Garrus time, so she goes for the next best thing; beating the shit out of a punching bag while the rest of the Crew is asleep.At least until her favorite Turian comes looking for her. Garrus is better at reading her then she’d realized, and he knows exactly what she needs.





	Reach and Flexibility

**Author's Note:**

> 21 pages. This damn thing is 21 pages long and I’ve been working on it all week.
> 
> Having said that, holy crap; I think this is the Shakarian piece I’m most happy with so far. Played around with the timeline and some other things. Bah.
> 
> Enjoy ♥

_Pods, everywhere. Most empty - some still occupied. No life signs, according to EDI._

_As if that makes it better._

The punching bag swings when she strikes, fists wrapped and clenched as tight as her teeth.

_The Collectors - **Protheans** , twisted to serve the Reapers._

She spins, lashing out with her leg, dodging sideways when the bag swings back violently, dancing around it more gracefully than she'd ever been on a dance floor.

_A Goddamn trap, Harbinger waiting, mocking._

Another flurry of punches, knuckles feeling bruised despite the wraps, sweat dripping as she moves.

_'I didn’t send you without a purpose. We now know what we need. I'll send word when my scientists have made a breakthrough.'_

Fucking Cerberus, messing with people's lives yet again. Arisa bares her teeth and swings, only the strike of her skin against the bag helping the tension, the anger she'd felt since escaping the Collector Ship.

_Not fast enough. Not strong enough. Not **good**  enough. My fault, always my fault, everyone relying on me and yet questioning me. Is it her? Is she real?_

Kaidan's scowl, his disapproving look that read both  _how could you work with Cerberus?_  and  _are you **really**  Shepard?_, flashing through her mind, making her growl.

_Who the fuck else could I be?!_

Her control snaps. The next kick is laced with biotic energy, a purple aura surrounding her, and Arisa only snarls and puts all her strength into it, to wound up to hold back.

The chain snaps and the bag goes flying across the room, bouncing off the wall with a satisfying  _thwack_.

That brings her back, somewhat.

Arisa plants both feet square, lifts both hands in front of her - still glowing purple, charged and ready - and forces herself to  _breathe, just breathe_ , closing her eyes and clenching her teeth, trying to calm down.

The Collector Ship had frazzled what little sense of calm she had left. She wanted answers, she wanted an end -

She needed to let out some stress before she physically throttled the next person that irked her.

So here she was. Alone in the cargo bay well past midnight, beating the shit out of one of the punching bags they kept around for training purposes.

She hadn't been able to sleep - to wound up and frustrated from the mission, the  _trap_  she'd blindly led her squad into.

_You all made it out. That's a win._

A small win, but one she would take; Miranda had seemed just as surprised by the news as Arisa was, although she'd agreed with the Illusive Man in the end, and Garrus...

Well, Garrus was honestly probably just as pissed off as she was, but this had hardly seemed like the time to 'ease tension' together.

He'd requested - understandably -  _time_ , to plan and research, and the conversation they'd had right before heading to the Collector Ship only reinforced that.

_"You sure you wouldn't, ah... prefer someone closer to home?"_

_"Garrus, if I'm making you uncomfortable-"_

_"No no, never uncomfortable. Just nervous, is all."_

Gods, but the man could be frustrating, and if he blew her off for calibrations  _one more time_  she might just ring his neck.

_You would not. You love the bastard too much._

Yet another reason she hadn't gone anywhere  _near_  the Main Battery since they'd gotten back, and why she'd waited till she was 99% sure her best friend was asleep.

Wound up as she was, she'd have been too damn tempted to jump him if he got close, and wouldn't  _that_  just mess everything up?

Beating up a punching bag had seemed like a good alternative... except she's still frustrated, still pissed off, and even being covered in sweat and panting from exertion isn't keeping her mind from wandering at the mere thought of the Turian.

The biotics and cybernetics aren't helping, either.

_Stop it. Control yourself._

"You look tense, Shepard; need a hand?"

The smooth, dual-toned voice makes her freeze, eyes slitting open to glare at the Turian.

Garrus is leaning against the crates they'd stacked to section off this corner of the cargo bay, arms crossed and expression so damn smug she knows he's been there a while.

_When did he come in? Fuck, I didn't even notice._

"How long have you been there?" her eyes dart down to his chest - startlingly  _bare_ , covered in rough plates with fawn hide between, the broken rim of his keel yet another ring of  _not fast enough not good enough_  that she shoves away - snapping back up to his when she reaches the waistline of his pants and realizes she's been giving him a damn once-over.

She feels slightly less guilty when he holds her eyes for a moment before  _purposely doing the same_ , a little tingle running up her spine when the blue returns to her face, gaze suddenly intense and sniper-focused.

His mandibles flare, and there's almost a purr to his voice when he answers "Oh, long enough to see you toss a punching bag as easily as a pillow. Damn, Shepard; you oughta be fighting with your  _hands_."

Arisa laughs, breathless and amused, flexing still-purple fingers "The wonders of biotics, Garrus. I wouldn't last a minute at close-range by myself."

"I beg to differ, but that's not why I'm here." his look softens slightly, purr lowering, "Are you alright?"

She starts at that, scoffs, "I'm fine, Garrus, why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, let's see - for one, you normally spend time with your squad after missions, or at least  _pretend_  to eat dinner so Chakwas isn't breathing down your neck."

She sighs at that, rolling her shoulders as the purple finally fades away, "Wasn't hungry-"

"And  _two_ , you don't normally  _avoid me like the plague_  and then spend the night beating the shit out of a punching bag instead of sleeping." Garrus tilts his head, lets her hear the frustration in his voice, and pins her with his gaze, "So I'll ask again.  _Are you alright_?"

Arisa flinches, looking away. Crosses her arms in an attempt to gather her thoughts, feeling his eyes on her the whole time.

Then, finally, "I wasn't fast enough.  _Again_. And I led you and Miranda into a damn  _trap_. I failed."

"Last I checked, the three of us made it out alive and we had a lead on getting through the Omega 4 Relay." Garrus' voice is a low drawl, but it's tinged with confusion, "How the hell do you consider that  _failing_?"

"Couldn't save the people in those pods." she growls quietly, shoving her fingers through her hair - still short, still unwilling to grow, still a point of annoyance despite a certain Turian's assurances that it  _suited her_  - "I just... couldn't pretend today, Garrus. I needed to work off some stress."

_And I know you want time, so going to you wasn't an option._

"Want to spar?"

Arisa's head snaps up at that, brows raised. Garrus only continues to examine his talons.

"Come again?"

"You know,  _spar_. That thing squadmates do sometimes to hone their skills or work off stress? A little, ah,  _friendly competition?_ " there's a spark in his eyes that just  _begs_  for a reaction, a smug air about him, "Unless you don't think you can keep up."

That makes her laugh again, startled and eager, shaking her head, "Are you doubting my skills, Garrus?"

"Well, you do have those nice Cerberus Implants on your side - and despite your arguments, I've seen you take down quite a few men at close-quarters." Garrus flares his mandibles once more, the purr rumbling, "Just remember, I'm high-ranked at hand-to-hand combat. All about the  _reach_."

"Alright, Vakarian," Arisa slips easily into a ready stance, lips twitching, "Let's see what you've got."

* * *

 Shepard takes the bait, and Garrus has to force himself not to smirk.

_Good girl. Let's get that stress off your mind._

He’d been worried since they’d gotten back and she’d disappeared without a word. Hardly even an acknowledgement once she’d stripped off her armor, gone to meet with the Illusive Man and vanishing immediately after.

Part of him was hurt.  _Aren’t I your best friend, Shepard? Don’t you trust me?_

The next thought had made him realize  _why_  she’d probably stayed away.  _You’re the one that wanted time, Vakarian. Good job._

So maybe he’d asked EDI to let him know if Shepard left her cabin.

Maybe he’d nearly gone running when the AI had pinged him - regardless of being stripped down to the pants he normally wore to sleep.

Maybe he’d even been hiding in the shadows since she’d started going at the punching bag, noting the fluid way she moved, the tension running through her as she dodged and swung and kicked.

And he’d be lying if he said the easy way she’d thrown the punching bag wasn’t damn impressive - not to mention a much bigger turn on then he’d expected, shoving those thoughts away as he casually moved into the light and spoke up.

He praises her and Shepard brushes it off as biotics, and Garrus tries not to feel insulted when she continues to hide her stress.

The relief he feels when he manages to get her to admit to it is nearly overwhelming, and then he’d made an offer he’d known she couldn’t refuse - to spar.

“So,” Shepard moves carefully back when he steps properly into the space, gaze focused on him, “Any rules to this sparring?”

“No abilities.” he responds simply, the only rule he thinks they need.

Her lips twitch, “Meaning…?”

“Biotics would be cheating, Shepard.”

She laughs at that and he relishes the sound even as he shifts focus, analysing the way she moves, the slight hesitance to her steps, the scarcest trace of red on the bandages covering her knuckles.

_She made herself bleed, wailing on that thing. Dammit, Shepard._

“That why you’re not wearing your visor?”

He can’t help a grunt, “I don’t  _sleep_  with it on, Shepard.”

“Coulda fooled me.”

 _Okay,_  Garrus settles into his own stance, smirks when he sees her tense in response,  _No more talking._

He darts forwards and feints to the right when she dodges back, striking out in a way he knows she’ll block, testing and tempting.

Shepard just dodges, guarding, and he flares his mandibles when he catches her arm in a brief lock, giving her a downright smug look.

“C’mon, Shepard, that the best you got? At least  _try_  and hit me.”

That snaps whatever was holding her back, teeth bared as she lashes out with a fist, strikes coming hard and fast.

Garrus dodges skillfully - deflecting and fainting, taunting and leading her around the room.

He darts in on occasion to keep her from noticing, pulls punches at the last minute so they just graze her without doing real damage - keeps his talons curled into his palms, unwilling to draw blood when the whole point is to help her  _relax_.

Close-combat really  _isn’t_  her strong point; he hadn’t lied about seeing her take down enemies in close-quarters, but it was only ever done when  _necessary_ , when an enemy managed to slip through his sights to corner her.

(A slip-up he  _rarely_  made, thank you  _very_  much.)

He can read her discomfort in the way she moves her arms, the way she flinches when he advances - the slight stumble when he catches her by surprise with a swipe at her side, pulled at the end so it’s barely more than a brush of his knuckles against her skin.

Shepard is a deadly opponent on the battlefield; a master biotic and skilled with whatever weapon she happens to pick up.

But here, stripped down to close-range, hand-to-hand, she’s sloppy.

And if he’s being honest, that just attracts him to her more; the fact that Commander Shepard  _isn’t_ perfect.

She’s human, she’s fallible, and yet she still manages to do the impossible, manages to come out on top no matter the odds, looks after her squad despite any cost to herself.

_It’s my turn to look after you._

This isn’t a spar for teaching; it’s to wear her out, let her work out all of her anger and frustration. So he doesn’t correct her sloppy steps or over-reaching, doesn’t bring up the fact that her punches do little to the armored plates of his chest and arms.

He just flows with her, gives her what she needs - dodges and blocks and faints until they’re both breathing hard and she’s shiny with sweat, still going despite her double workout.

She’s worn out but stubborn, and he knows she’ll keep going until she collapses; that’s not what he wants. Tuckered out and less stressed, yes - ready to collapse,  _no_.

So when Shepard makes a grab he lets her take him down, back hitting the floor with a hard  _thump_  as her weight settles on top of him - barely remembering to jerk his head forwards to keep his crest from impacting.

Shepard’s settled just above his hips, knees on the ground on either side of him and one hand still pressed flat to his chest, the other raised as though to strike.

She’s panting and sweating and there’s the slightest tremor to her arm as she lowers it, clearly high on adrenaline even as her body cools, staring down at him with wide green eyes.

He could lose himself in those eyes - more green than anything he’d ever encountered before leaving Palaven, cold and steely on the battlefield and yet so damn expressive in moments like these.

Garrus sees her freeze for a moment as she processes what happened, mouth drawn in a frown, gaze darting around the room then back to him.

He stops that thought before it can properly form, mandibles flared in a smirk, “Feel better?”

“I do, actually.” she laughs a little breathlessly, and his hands twitch, the urge to settle them on her thighs nearly overwhelming, “You’re right, Garrus, sparring  _is_  a good way to work off stress. Maybe I should adapt this policy for the crew.”

_So long as you only spar with me._

He curbs that possessive thought and gives in to the urge to flip her, enjoying her startled curse  _far more_  than he should, smirking down at the slightly disgruntled look she gives him.

It’s hard to ignore the deeper emotions and wants rising up, pressing her down into the floor as he is, but he’s nothing if not stubborn.

“Just so long as they don’t get to  _competitive_.” he says instead, making her laugh again.

“Speaking from personal experience, Garrus?”

“You know I am.” he doesn’t take that thought any further, determined to abide by what she needs, not what his own treacherous body wants.

Shepard’s smiling, now, looking more at ease then she has in days, but there’s still an underlay of stress and exhaustion, of adrenaline and something else.

Tempted, Garrus lifts a hand and runs a talon gently over her cheek, hearing her sharp intake of breath and seeing her eyes widen.

Shepard doesn’t move, though - doesn’t flinch away or order him to stop - so he lets his hand settle there for a moment, curious.

“Garrus?” her voice is soft, the vulnerability in it near killing him. No one ever sees her like this.

No one but him, he realizes.

“Your scars are gone.” he rumbles, tracing the clear skin - unmarred asides from the spattering of dots he thinks are called  _freckles_. He remembers the first time he’d seen her again, on Omega - strange red scars on her cheeks and jaw, one on her forehead, almost looking like brands. “That means you’ve stuck to your code, your morals. You’ve done everything you could.”

Shepard scoffs at that, though she turns her face into his touch. "It's not enough."

"Bullshit." Garrus growls, and her eyes snap back to his, searching.

She's flipped him before he realizes what's happening, switching their positions back to what they'd been - only this time, she's sitting right on the sensitive skin of his waist, and he can't quite control the rolling growl that escapes him.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck, think of Saren. Think of Omega. Guns, calibrating - shit, Shepard, you don't know what you're doing to me here-_

Garrus freezes when her hand settles gently over his bandage - freshly changed just before EDI's alert - and he stares at her as she mimics his previous actions, brushing down over his scarred mandible and sending tremors of heat through him.

"I wasn't fast enough." her voice is soft, anguished, and she's frowning, "If I'd gotten there sooner..."

"I'm  _alive_  because of you." he reminds her, daring to lift a hand and press it over hers on his face, "You got there just in time, Shepard."

"Thank God." she mutters, and suddenly she's  _closer_ , and he can see the heat in those green eyes, now, feel her warmth shifting against his waist, and-

_Oh, Spirits, I can **smell**  her, Shepard-_

It's a damn addictive scent - musky and sweet, sweat and something else that calls to his feral side, and a hand lands on her hip and grips almost instinctively - whether to stop her movements or drag her closer he's not sure at this point.

_Control yourself, Vakarian! If this isn't what she wants, not yet-_

"Garrus?"

Garrus' eyes snap open, meeting her gaze - there's still heat there, tinged with worry, and when had he even  _closed_  his eyes? - and he just stares for a minute, hand still on her hip, feeling the delicious softness of her skin just above the waist of her shorts, the heat rolling off her-

Garrus groans, the sound dual-toned and needy. "Fuck, I need a cold shower..."

Something changes in her eyes then, coming into focus, and the smirk that curls her lips can only be described as predatory.

"Or..." Shepard slides back towards his hips at the same time as she leans closer again, and he's too distracted by those green eyes so close to him to really notice what she's doing, "You could stop  _stalling_  and just  _ravish_  me already."

Any reply he might have had is swallowed by a thrumming moan when there's suddenly a five-fingered hand slipping into his pants and stroking along his seam, bucking automatically.

"Shepard!"

Shepard hums at him,  close enough to lick along his scarred mandible and leave him shuddering, "That a yes?"

_Spirits, yes, fuck._

* * *

 While the sparring had done  _wonders_  for her stress and frustration, it hadn’t dampened her libido a damn bit.

Arisa is panting and out of breath when she manages to pin Garrus to the ground, balanced with a hand on his chest, heart pounding as she stares down at him.

“Feel better?” he asks, smug even in defeat.

“I do, actually,” she laughs, strangely refreshed, “You’re right, Garrus, sparring  _is_  a good way to work off stress. Maybe I should adapt this policy for the crew.”

A shadow of something passes over his face then - was that a  _possessive_  look? interesting - before he  _flips_  her, making her gasp and make a very disgruntled face as he presses her against the floor.

“Just so long as they don’t get to  _competitive_.”

“Speaking from personal experience, Garrus?” she snickers, remembering that conversation all too well - it had given her the guts to express her interest, after all.

(Even if, looking back, it probably seemed like all she wanted was sex - something she would need to rectify, eventually...)

“You know I am.” he says, and Arisa just lays back and smiles, still catching her breath and shoving away the tiny twinge of jealousy she feels at the memory of his story.

She’s going to need to get up and take a very, very cold shower soon, if he isn’t interested in  _continuing_  things tonight. Just the feel of him pressing her down against the floor is driving her mad.

Arisa goes very still when he suddenly lifts a hand to her face, eyes wide and breath catching at the feel of his bare palm on her cheek.

“Garrus?” she whispers, confused and startled by the utter  _intimacy_  of the touch, by how gentle he’s being.

“Your scars are gone.” he rumbles, tracing the skin of her cheek, “That means you’ve stuck to your code, your morals. You’ve done everything you could.”

Arisa scoffs at that, though she turns her face into his touch, liking the rough texture of his skin on hers "It's not enough."

"Bullshit." Garrus growls, and her eyes snap back to his, searching.

She’s flipping him before she’s even processed the action, settling further up his waist this time, reaching down to mimic his actions and placing her hand on his bandage - a reminder of the time she’d failed him.

"I wasn't fast enough." her voice is soft, anguished, and she frowns, "If I'd gotten there sooner..."

"I'm  _alive_  because of you." Garrus presses his hand over hers, and the touch grounds her, "You got there just in time, Shepard."

"Thank God." if she hadn’t made it in time, if she’d been to late-

The thoughts spur her into action, leaning down closer to him, shifting against him and  _fuck_ , he smells good, metal and guns and scents she can’t name, the heat of him beneath her making her head spin.

His hand grips her hip and she shudders at the barest prick of talons, almost positive that there’s just as much want in his blue eyes as there are in hers-

Then he closes his eyes and she stops, hesitating and cautious, and asks “Garrus?”

His eyes snap open, and that’s  _definitely_  want staring back at her, his grip tightening for just a moment.

Then he groans - a rolling, double edged sound of  _need_  - and says “Fuck, I need a cold shower.”

Arisa doesn’t even  _try_  to hide the smirk that spreads across her lips, want spiking at the confirmation.

"Or..." She slides back towards his hips while leaning even closer, distracting him while she slips a hand further down, "You could stop  _stalling_  and just  _ravish_  me already."

Query found, Arisa purposely runs her fingers along the seam of his groin plates - and she’s damn proud she found it so easily, the plates already feeling loose - which makes him shudder and shout, talons  _just_  digging into her hip.

“Shepard!”

“That a yes?” she breathes against his face, giving in to the urge to lick a long stripe up his scarred mandible, loving both the taste and the way he shudders beneath her.

He doesn’t answer, though - just gives another low groan, flanging and hot as hell - and she pulls back a little, hesitating again, because if it really  _is_  too soon and he doesn’t want to… well, she’ll be annoyed for a couple of hours, but she’ll go douse herself in ice water if it means not fucking things up.

“Garrus, seriously, if you don’t want this, we can stop-”

The last word comes out as more of a gasp when he gives a low growl and flips her beneath him once more, hips pressed snugly against her own and face buried in her neck.

“Cold showers aren’t going to cut it anymore.” he mutters, nipping at her throat with his mouth plates, running his tongue up along her neck and over her ear, “I  _want_  you, Shepard.”

“Glad we’re on the same page,” she sighs and smirks - hand still resting against him, running up and down and feeling the plates spreading further, “Was trying to, ah, give you  _time_ , like you-”

“I’m an idiot,” Garrus groans, one hand slipping down her stomach while the other stays against the ground for support, nudging his forehead against hers, “I’m not wasting anymore time when any day could be our last.”

“Good. I  _want_  you, Garrus.” her free arm wraps around his neck, fingers scratching beneath his fringe as she nuzzles him, feeling something  _heavy_  begin to push against her from between his plates, “I’ve wanted you for a long time.”

His only response is a moan and his mouth plates brushing against her lips, tongue running over them questioningly, plunging in to tangle with hers when she opens her mouth eagerly.

Arisa sighs happily and then arches with a startled wail when there’s suddenly a hand between her thighs, slipping easily beneath her panties to run carefully along her folds.

She whimpers and presses closer when one long finger slides in, thumb rubbing over her clit in small circles and making her shiver.

“Holy shit, Garrus,” Arisa kisses him harder, speeding her own strokes and shuddering at the needy growl he releases, “How the fuck did you know…?”

“Research.” he groans, hips shifting against her hand, thumb moving faster over her, “Spirits, Shepard, you’re so  _wet_ -”

Garrus says something garbled that the translator doesn’t catch and then his cock is sliding out into her waiting hand, and she can’t see it yet but  _fuck_  she can feel it, wet and hot and  _ridged_  and oh, God, she can’t even wrap her fingers all the way around it-

“Garrus, fuck, I  _need_  you,  _now_.” Arisa’s gasping, overwhelmed, releasing him to tug at his pants because she can’t take it any more, she’s to wound up, she  _needs_  him.

Garrus growls and then he’s pulling off her just enough that they can both start yanking clothes off - he’s done first and she wants to look him at him so badly it  _hurts_  but the clothes need to come  _off_ , shorts and panties flung away in a frantic motion and the hooks of her sports bra nearly ripped out in her haste to get it off.

The pure hunger in his gaze chases away any thoughts of insecurity before they’d even managed to fully form, and she has just enough time to take a quick look at him - long and  _blue_  and oh  _God_  he looks delicious - before she’s being grabbed and pinned back beneath him, his tongue tangled with hers and his hips rolling against her.

“Please, Garrus,” Arisa wraps her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, purposely brushing against the sensitive skin there to make him snarl and shudder, “Come on,  _please_.”

Garrus buries his face in her neck again, reaching down to align himself and muttering “Brace yourself.” before beginning to push in.

Arisa’s head falls back against the ground with a  _thunk_ , a moan rolling out of her at the feeling, the delicious stretch of him inside her, the ridges bumping and stimulating places she hadn’t even  _known_  could feel that good.

There’s the briefest flash of pain right before he’s hilted - his shaft is thicker at the base, and she hasn’t had sex since Cerberus brought her back - but it’s chased almost immediately away by the sensation of being filled and his mouth on her neck, nipping gently.

 _Use your teeth on me. Mark me._  she thinks, digging her nails in beneath his fringe, but doesn’t voice the want allowed. Do Turians even  _do_  that? Could be just another myth.  _I can find out later._

For now, all her fuzzy brain can process is the feel of his ridges as he pulls out to the tip, breath gusting out of her when he slams back home.

Garrus sets a slow pace at first, clearly trying to make it last, to draw out the moment. And while she appreciates the sentiment -  _I love the bastard, fuck, finally_  - they can take it slow another time.

She’s still wound up and tense, and she needs release, hard and fast, needs to be so damn worn out and satisfied she can crawl into bed and pass out.

_Preferably curled up against a certain Turian._

Garrus must read the need in her expression because he ups the pace almost immediately, lifting her legs over his shoulders so he can hit deeper, harder, and Arisa cries out and does her best to meet his movements, aroused beyond belief.

She’s never been this far gone this quickly, body synced to every move he makes, and when there’s suddenly a thumb pressing down on her clit, rolling it as he takes her, something snaps.

Arisa yanks him down and bites down hard on the unprotected skin of his throat, acting on impulse, knowing better than to think that she can break the surface but more than content leaving a bruise.

Garrus  _jerks_ , and then he’s snarling and his teeth are on her shoulder and the sudden burst of pain-pleasure sends her spiraling over the edge, screaming as her release hits, arching desperately against him.

He snarls in her ear, teeth still locked in her shoulder, thrusting another once, twice, before burying himself deep and shivering as the orgasm takes, making her moan at the hot rush of him inside of her.

Arisa’s not worried about it - she’s a Spacer Kid, and she’d never tested as Dextro-sensitive - and judging by Garrus’ rolling purr as he dislodges his fangs and laps up the pinpricks of blood, he’s not allergic, either.

 _Awesome, so we don’t have to worry about any extra precautions._  She’d have taken them if need be, of course. Just the fact that they were compatible without made her heart soar and her arms tighten around him.

Garrus seems to be thinking the same; he gently drops her legs from his shoulders and wraps his own arms snugly around her back, nuzzling into her throat and making a noise that can only be a  _purr_ , vibrating through him and into her.

Arisa sighs happily, settling her legs down and then shivering when he suddenly seems to swell again, sensitive and overstimulated by the hard length of him still inside of her.

_Hmmm, round two, coming up?_

She’s just about to voice her thoughts when Garrus goes suddenly stiff, head and torso jerking back and a look of near horror crossing his face.

“Garrus?” even the happy post-orgasmic high doesn’t keep her from being concerned, “What’s wrong?”

“I… just…” he lifts his hips a little and Arisa blinks when she’s tugged along, startled when he tries again and hisses in pain, “Oh, Spirits, no-”

“Garrus, what is it?”

“I’m sorry, Shepard, fuck, I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” she’s incredibly confused, lifting a hand to his cheek to try and ground him, frowning when he flinches and looks away, “Seriously, you’re worrying me, here.”

“I’m sorry, I’ve already gone and fucked this up. Spirits, I’m sorry.” he won’t look at her, even though their hips are still pressed flush, and she can feel the swollen length of him twitch deep inside, “I didn’t think it would happen with a human, you’re not Dextro-”

“Garrus!” she snaps his name a little harsher than intended, softening when he goes very still and his mandibles pull in tighter than she’s ever seen them. “Garrus.” she tries again, using her free hand to gently turn his face towards her, wishing he would let her up so they could talk properly, “What are you talking about?”

Garrus stares at her for a moment, more nervous than she'd ever seen him, and swallows. “I, uh…  _knotted_ , Shepard. Just now.”

Arisa blinks up at him, trying and failing to place the term. “Knotted?”

“Yeah. Uh, you know…” he pauses, looking both like he’s going to be sick and like he wants to hide, “Happens when we uh, finish  _inside_ , sometimes. We  _knot_ , to… y’know, keep the seed in. Help with conception. So I’m, uh… knotted, right now. Inside you.”

The light goes on then, and Arisa understands what the fullness is, now, and why every shift of his hips brings hers with them.

What she doesn’t understand is why he’s so damn upset.

“Okay… so why are you apologizing?” she’s honestly confused, and slightly hurt at the thought that maybe he didn’t  _want_  to be tied with her like this, “This isn’t a  _bad_  thing, right?”

Garrus’ eyes are on hers suddenly, and if Turians could go slack-jawed, she’s pretty sure that’s what he’d be doing right now. “You’re not… mad?”

“Garrus, why the  _hell_  would I be mad? A little surprised, yes, and you said yourself, you didn’t expect it to happen. But I’m not mad. Interested and wanting details, though…” she licks her lips unconsciously, smiling in what she hopes is a reassuring way, “This didn’t come up in any of my research, so care to enlighten me?”

She yelps in surprise when his arms are back around her and lifting her - still attached at the hips - so that she’s perched in his lap, hands on his shoulders for balance and his staying on her waist.

Looking down now she can actually  _see_  the swell of him inside of her, just slightly, and damn that’s actually kind of hot…

“You’re one of a kind, Shepard,” Garrus rumbles, the purr back in his voice as he nuzzles her, “I’m glad you didn’t start screaming at me, though.”

“Hey, if anything, it means you don’t get out of post-sex cuddling,” Arisa laughs, scratching purposely behind his fringe and loving the way the purr intensifies, “How long does this last?”

“Mmm, depends on the male. I’ve heard anywhere between ten minutes and two hours, give or take.”

“Okay, how long does it normally last for you?” she wishes, now, that they’d made it to her cabin before going at it - pillow talk would be much more comfortable with actual pillows.

“I, ah, don’t actually know,” he coughs, and his neck flushes blue, “This is my first time… well. Finishing  _inside_.”

“Oh.” Arisa blinks, processes that, and then has to tamp down on a smug smirk, “Ohh, I’m  _special_ , huh?”

Somehow his neck goes an even  _deeper_  blue, and he buries his face in her throat again, “Hey, I didn’t want there to be a chance I’d knocked someone up during a  _sparring_  match, alright?”

“Ahhh, I see.” Arisa hums, combing her fingers gently along his fringe, delighting in the way his grip tightens and his purr deepens again, “So that’s what triggers it? Fertility? Good thing you can’t knock me up, huh?”

Though she has the strangest wish that he  _could_ , one she squashes in favor of stroking him.

“That’s, uh, one of the reasons, yeah. We’ll knot if our bodies react to the female’s Heat.” Garrus sucks in a breath and sits back, and the look on his face is one she’s learned to read as  _I don’t want to talk about this but I need to tell you something_  and she tenses, wondering, “The other reason, is-”

“Hey, Commander, EDI said ye were down’ere - Holy Hell!”

Garrus’ voice cuts off, and even while Arisa is mentally cursing the AI, she’s intrigued by his grip on her tightening, a low growl vibrating through his chest.

_Interesting._

Thankfully, her back is towards the exit to the main Cargo Bay, their position hiding the worst of the situation, but it’s obvious enough what’s been going on.

Arisa just waves back in Kenneth’s direction, not wanting to scar the poor engineer anymore than they already had, “How about we talk in the morning, Kenneth?”

“Aye, Commander, Good Night, Commander!”

She can’t even bring herself to comment on his refusal to acknowledge Garrus by name, merely laughing quietly before settling her hand on the Turians bandage.

“Think maybe we can move this to my Cabin before we scar somebody else?”

Garrus shifts a little, wincing and shaking his head, “Still locked, Shepard, I’m-”

Arisa leans in and shuts him up with a kiss to his mouth plates, “No more apologizing. How strong are you?”

“The hell does that have to do with anything?”

“Well, if you can  _carry me_ , we can make it up there.” she waggles her eyebrows, hoping the slightly silly expression will calm him down, “Think you’re up to it?”

She’s happy when it seems to work, a chuckle rolling through his chest and his hands slipping around to support her ass.

“Hold on tight.” Garrus rumbles, and Arisa barely has enough time to wrap her arms around his neck and lock her legs around his hips before he’s standing in a ridiculously fluid motion that has her gasping.

“Woah.” Arisa blinks down at the ground and then back at him, a little stunned, “That’s hot.”

Garrus’ mandibles flare in a smirk, and the slightest hint of that purr is back as he carries her easily towards the elevator, clothes left in a heap behind them. “Now… how are we going to manage this without being caught, Shepard?”

“Easy. EDI,” Arisa grins as they step into the elevator, blindly reaching along the wall to hit the button for her cabin, “Lock the elevator until we’re at my Cabin, please. We have a bit of a… sensitive situation at hand.”

_“Shall I alert Dr. Chakwas?”_

“NO!” okay, that came out louder than necessary, but Garrus’ laugh is worth it, “No, we’re fine, we just need  _privacy_.”

_“Yes, Shepard.”_

“Smart.” he mutters, nuzzling at her neck again as the elevator starts up, hips still locked firmly to hers.

“I do have good ideas on occasion.” she laughs.

“Mmm, I suppose.”

“Watch it, Vakarian.”

The snark relaxes him, makes him laugh honestly, and he steps out the moment they’ve reached her deck, the door to her cabin sliding open at his approach.

(She’s always brushed that off as her ‘open door’ policy, but truthfully Garrus is the only other person who can enter without a code…)

“EDI, if anyone tries to contact me I’m unavailable for the night. Just say I’m asleep or something.”

_“Yes, Shepard.”_

“You  _do_  think of everything, don’t you?” Garrus crosses down to her bed and then spends a moment staring at it, calculating, before he carefully takes a seat on the edge.

Once he doesn’t have to worry about supporting her he works at rearranging her pillows till he can shuffle and lean back against them without squashing his crest, leaving her to sprawl on top of him.

_Mmm, I could get used to this._

“So, now that we’re a bit more comfortable and in no danger of being interrupted...” Arisa runs her fingers gently along the rim of his keel, careful near the scarred and broken edge, “what do Turian couples normally  _do_  while they’re waiting…?”

“Hmm. Basically what we’ve been doing. Cuddling, talking…” his hands are on her back, running up and down, the light drag of his talons sending shivers down her spine, “Like I said, I’ve never done this before. It’s… pretty nice.”

“Mhm. Speaking of talking.” she pushes herself up a little, catching his gaze, “Don’t think you’re getting out of that explanation, Garrus. Spill. What’s the other reason you could knot?”

Garrus coughs, mandibles fluttering, and his neck is a deep blue again -  _I’ll never get tired of that, fuck_  - hesitating another moment before answering.

“It’s… certain emotions can trigger it, to, if we feel them strongly enough during sex. Like…  _romantic_  affection, attachment, lo-” he stops so suddenly it’s as if he'd swallowed his tongue, looking almost terrified, as though he’s said too much.

As far as Arisa’s concerned, he’s said more than enough, and warmth blossoms in her chest, eyes feeling suddenly wet.

_This is more then blowing off steam for him, to._

“Shepard? Spirits, I’ve ruined things, haven’t I? I’m sorry-”

Arisa slips a hand around the back of his neck and pulls him down, kissing him deeply, not letting go until he relaxes and snakes his tongue out to tangle with hers.

She only pulls back when they’re both breathless and panting, bumping her forehead against his and nuzzling at him. “I love you to, Garrus.”

He sucks in a breath and then his arms are pressing her close, and she can feel him twitch inside of her, his heartbeat hammering in his chest, and his mandibles are flared wider than she thinks she’s ever seen them.

“When…?” he manages to ask, and she laughs.

“Probably since the first time you saved my ass.” she admits, trying to think back. She’s loved him for a long time, now, so long it’s hard to pinpoint when the love had changed from platonic to something more, “How bout you, tough guy?”

“Since you walked into my office and saved me from spending my life at C-Sec.” Garrus admits, a sadness to his words, “I didn’t realize till we got the news that you had - that the Normandy-”

 _The news that you had died_ , he means, and Arisa snuggles closer, pressing her lips to his throat in a quiet apology, wishing desperately that she could go back and change things, somehow keep the SR-1 from being attacked and destroyed.

But she can’t, and she’s grateful that at least now they have each other, that they have a chance. If they die taking out the Collectors, at least they’ll have had time together.

“We have time, now. And I’d rather like to learn all about Turian customs and habits,” Arisa smirks up at him, batting her eyes, “But I have a request.”

“Name it.”

“Call me by my first name. At least when we’re alone.”

Garrus stares at her for a moment, and she wonders if somehow, with all these confessions, it’s still to intimate a request, before he rumbles thoughtfully and says “Arisa?”

She sighs, shivering and snuggling closer again, “God you’re amazing.”

He purrs back, reaching down to pull the sheets up and over them, “You’re pretty damn amazing yourself. We make a great team, after all.”

“No Shepard without Vakarian.” she agrees sleepily, and the purr strengthens, a rumble in his chest that’s not helping her dozy state.

“I should be able to move soon, Arisa.” Garrus says and God, she already loves her name in his voice.

“S’okay. I’m content riiiight here. But if you’re uncomfortable-”

“I’m fine,” she vaguely hears him flick the switch on her table before the lights go out, and she sighs happily, just about to drift off when something hits her.

“You fucker,” she mumbles, half asleep, “You  _let_  me win.”

All she hears is his purring laugh before she’s out like a light.

* * *

 Sometime later Arisa is woken by Garrus rolling her to her back and pulling free of her body, whining softly at the distinct emptiness and rush of cold she feels without him curled around her.

She hears him chuckle and feels him brush his forehead over hers. “I’ll be right back.”

“Where’re you-?”

“Need to grab some clothes while no one’s down in the Mess,” he answers, and she supposes that makes sense, since he probably doesn’t want to walk naked through a crowd of people when they go down in the morning.

Her sleepy mind twists that around and she frowns, grumping “Mine.” and hearing him laugh.

“Yours.” he agrees, nuzzling her again before pulling away completely, and she sighs when the door opens and shuts.

Arisa dozes a little until he comes back, listening to him tossing something on her couch before he’s climbing back into bed and arranging himself comfortably, pulling her back in against his chest and purring happily.

She doesn’t wake up again until several hours later, the clock on her omnitool reading 06:00. Garrus is awake but in no hurry to move, and she laughs and swats his hands away when he tries to keep her in bed, knowing without looking that she needs a shower.

Arisa washes up and towels off, striding back through her cabin completely nude and loving the way his eyes follow her, not even surprised when halfway through pulling her pants on there’s arms around her waist and mandibles flaring against her shoulder.

“ _Later_.” she promises, hearing him hum happily before nipping her - right over the bite marks from the night before - and letting her go to get dressed himself.

Arisa pauses for a moment, thinking, and then purposely pulls out an N7 tank top and pulls it on over her bra, leaving the mark completely visible.

They finish dressing and head down to the Mess Hall, talking all the while - normal things, upcoming missions, battle tactics, gun mods - their hands brushing and catching, squeezing briefly before the elevator stops and they step out to join the others.

The bite mark doesn’t go unnoticed.

Jack full out  _laughs_ , Miranda coughs and covers a knowing smile, Joker’s smirk is slightly terrifying, and Chakwas just gives them both an approving glance.

Kenneth won’t look at them. Neither will Gabby.

Neither Thane or Samara seem interested, and Mordin is thankfully absent.

Jacob ends up being the one who asks, glancing at her as she and Garrus sit down with their breakfasts - side by side and brushing elbows.

“Commander, why do you have  _bite marks_  on your shoulder?”

Arisa smirks, leans forwards, and says in her very best Commander voice:

“None of your  _Goddamn_  business.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments make my day! ♥


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